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2 barging in the trees, and casting a faiut glow on her pale cheek. For. the first time in his life, ’Duke looked with fasci nated eyes upon the beauty of n woman, and, this evening, lie gave a name to the emotidn that had been agitating his heart lor some time, and called it—Love! Marmaduke had not been informed of Amy's engagement with John Mac Donald. She did not wish any one but her sisters to know of’ it till John came. Arthur and Ormand knew of it already, as they were present when John spoke of it to Emily. “Do you know that you look like a little snow-drop, this evening, Amy !” said Marmaduke, breaking the silence that had been unbroken so long. “I must, indeed, look well, to win a compliment from you, ’Duke,” said Amy, smiling up into his face. “ ’Tis very true, I am not in the habit of praising persons; therefore, you will more readily believe me, now that I say you are beautiful !” “What! again, ’Duke? And, how awkward you are. You tell me right out what you mean, instead of delicately in sinuating it,” said Amy, playfully. “Yes, I am, indeed, awkward, ’’ replied ’Duke, with a slight bitterness of tone; “but you cannot wonder at that Amy, you who know how the early years of my life were spent. I have not the polished politeness of most noblemen, Amy; but, trust me, my heart is as true and honest as that of the most accomplished gentle man of King William’s Court,” Amy looked up in astonishment. “I was only jesting, ’Duke, and you have taken my words seriously; that is not like you, at all. Do you imagine that.l could, for one instant, doubt the worth of your noble heart?” “Are you still jesting, Amy ?” “Jesting ! no ; how can you ask me such a question ? What is the matter, ’Duke; you are not like yourself* this evening ?” “Perhaps, I am only showing my true self, this evening'. You arc disposed to laugh at me, because I find your loveliness so charming; are you not, Afny ?” “Oh! no, not to laugh at you, ’Duke ; though it seems strange to hear you call me lovely. If it were Arthur, now— ’’ “Arthur !” exclaimed ’Duke, starting violently; “ docs Arthur, then, love yon ?” “Love me ! I hope lie does; I am sure 1 would be very unhappy, if I thought lie did not,” replied Amy, look ing at ’Duke in innocent surprise. “Y->u would be unhappy, if you thought he did not love you ! \ r ou arc engaged to him, then V' “Engaged to him ! What could have put such an idea into your head? En gaged to Arthur ! no; nor ever expect to be. What, on earth, do you mean ?” “Am I, indeed, so awkward, that you have not yet discovered my meaning '! If you had let me alone, I should have told you, in plain words, what I meant; but, at the first step, you reproved.me for telling, too bluntly, my meaning. 1 should not have tried to insinuate my meaning; my feelings, that have lain dormant for so many years, are too pow erful, now that they have been roused, to be trifled with. Let me, plain man that I am, tell you my love, in plain words Oh ! Amy, my pure pearl, you must know that I love you !’’ “ ’Duke !” exclaimed Amy, and it was ail she said. “Have ycu no answer for me, Amy ?” he continued, clasping her tiny hands in his, and holding them tighter than he had any idea of; “you only repeat my name* I feared that you might love Arthur; you told me that it is not so, and i have allowed myself to hope. Our families are already closely united. Let us bind them together with one more tie. Be my wife, Amy, and trust me to make you happy. I never have loved before, aud all the love of my strong heart is for you !” Amy listened in grief and amazement to these last words, and, in her heart, most bitterly regretted that she had not made him acquainted with her engage ment as soon as possible after her return from the Highlands. But it was too late now, and, in an agony of sorrow and re morse, she gazed upon ’Duke’s agitated countenance. “You do not answer me, Amy; have I frightened you that you look so pale ? Nay, take your own time, sweet one; I can wait—patiently, no!—but, to win your love at last, 1 can wait, aye, years, if required!” “Hush !” murmured Amy; “there is someone near us. I think it is Sir John Dalrymple.” As she spoke, a gentleman came to wards them, aud, in courtly style, bowed to Amy. ’Duke could scarcely conceal his confusion, and gladly complied with the Knight’s request, that he would re linquish Amy to him for a short time. Nor was Amy sorry so have him leave her, for a short time, though she would have preferred almost any other companion to John Dalrymple, Master of Stair. He had signified to Reginald and Eugenia his wish to pay his court to Amy. Reginald would say nothing about it, but Eugenia encouraged his addresses, hoping to make Amy forget her High land lover. The Master of Stair was an almost constant companion of the King, and Reginald’s quick eye soon noted the vast influence he wielded over William. Our readers will, doubtless, remember that it was Sir John Dalrymple who stood at the door while the King con versed with his friends on the occasion of ’Genic’s marriage. Amy had noticed his pointed atten tions, and, therefore, avoided him as much as possible. Poor Amy, she was destined to meet with more confusion ere the close of the evening. For a few mo ments, Sir John led her about the garden walks in silence, and then selecting a seat, where the moonbeams faintly strug gled through the interlacing vines, he begged her to be seated, and stood be fore her. “I am selfish to keep you here, Miss Mortimer, when your presence would add an additional brilliancy to the ball room,” he said iD a smooth voice. “1 think I will scarcely be missed, as long 1 as my sister Eugenia is there,” re plied Amy. “Believe it not; she is the bright sun whose glitter pains the eye, and we turn with pleasure to the more mildly beaming Evening Star,” said the Master of Stair, bowing low, “A truce to your flattery, Sir Jolm; I arn not fond of it.” replied Amy, a little impatiently. “Only tell me what you wish, and I will gladly obey,” answered Sir John; “it is my earnest desire, now and always, to please you in all things. I ODly ask you to favor me with your commands.” “I have neither right nor inclination to command you, sir,” answered Amy; and, therefore, you certainly cannot expect me to do so.” “But, I am more than anxious to give you that right, Miss Mortimer. I have your sister’s permission to offer you my hand, which I now do, with my most humble love.” He said “humble,” but he looked as if he meant “most distinguished love.” “l r ou honor me, sfc, by your prefer ence,” replied Amy, coldly; “hut I am very sorry my sister gave you permission to address me, as she must have known 1 would be compelled to decline your pro posal,” “But why should you decline ?” asked Sir John, almost angrily; “is not my sta tion equal to your own ?” “Nay, sir; you have no right to ask me why I decline,”answered Amy; “but I am willing to admit that your rank is far above that of the niece of the late Earl of Sutherland and sister-in-law of the presest one.” “You are to remind me of your relationship to that powerful Earl,” an swered Sir John.; “I only wonder that I could have forgotten il a moment, and still more do 1 wonder, that I should have lost sight of the coronet that the Earl of Surreu holds suspended above your fair head !” “The Earl of Surrey is my brother, and cousin, no more,” replied Amy, angrily; “and you have no right to speak to me thus.” “Certainly not , Madame, the Countess ,” said Sir John, scornfully ; “but you can not blind me. How could I ever have thought that you could turu away your eyes from the Earl to the son of a poor Viscount ?” “I repeat it, the Earl is nothing to me,” answered Amy; “he is worthy of a far better wife than Amy Mortimer will make.” “Tour affections arc disengaged, then ?” “I refuse to. answer the question,” re plied Amy, indignantly ; “let me pass, sir, I wish to go to my sister.” “You refuse to answer me; you do well not to persist in your denial, while I see that glittering circlet on your finger. It has only been placed there lately, and is the only one yoU wear. Dare you say the Earl of Surrey did not give it to you “The Earl of Surrey did not give it to me; he knows nothing about it,” said Amy. “What! look you still higher than Earl? A royal Duke, perhaps, attracts your attention ?” While he was speaking, Marinaduke came near them, and, hearing Sir John’s words, paused a moment. “I do not look higher than an Earl,” replied Amy, her voice quivering with in dignation ; “your words are impertinent, but I will satisfy your curiosity. Know, then, that I am engaged to John Mac Donald, the son of Mac lan of Glencoe !” Marinaduke pressed his hand to his heart, and clung to a tree to support his almost tainting form. The next words of Sir John roused him to a full con sciousness of surrounding objects. “Mac Donald, of Glencoe ! Refused for a pitiful Highland Chief! If it had been the Earl of Surrey, I might have forgiven the slight; but, McDonald, of Glencoe! Never!” “Enough !” exclaimed ’Duke, stepping forward, and grasping Ids arm; “you have said enough, sir ! If the rank of a Highland Chief does not rival that of an Earl, it, at least, equals that of the Master of Stair, and my cousin’s affection elevates him far above a rejected suitor !” “I should have thought the Earl of Surrey too well bred to taunt a man with his misfortune; but it seems that I am mistaken,” said Sir* John Dalrymple, hotly “And 1 thought the Master of Stair too much of a gentleman to taunt, a lady with her choice of a lover, and—l was mis taken. Let it. pass. I would not have said her favored lover was elevated to a rank higher than that of a rejected one, were I not sharing your misfortune.” Then, taking Amy on his arm, ho led her away, leaving the discomfited Master of Stair vowing deadly vengeance. , “Why did you not tell me this before, dear Amy V said ’Duke, gently. “I thought I would wait until y u saw him. I feared you might feel the same prejudice that ’(.ionic does, and you would like him, if you knew him.” “I will try to like him for your sake, Amy,” said Marmaduke, and Amy gazed sorrowfully into his anguished face. “You will forgive me, ’Duke, dear cousin ; believe me, I never thought of this, or I would have warned you. Oh ! how could 1 guess that you cared so much for me V “Believe me, I do not blame you Amy; and I trust that you may be as happy as / would have tried to make you. Oh! I am very wretched, Amy. What shall I do ?” “Come, let us go home,” said Amy; “there is Arthur, 1 will speak to him.” Dropping ’Duke’s arm, she went to Arthur, who, with Emily, was walking slowly towards them. “Arthur, let us go home.” “What is the matter, Amy ? are you not well ? Why, you are crying ! What is it ?’’ asked Emily, anxiously. “I will call the carriage !” said Arthur, hastening away, and leaving them to enter the house alone. As Amy turned back to seek ’Duke, he moved into the shadow,’ and let them pass. When they had seated themselves in the carriage, ’Duke presented himself at the door, and, in a low voice, asked : “Is there room for me ?” “Certainly,” answered Emily, making room for him by her side ; -“Regie and Eugenia have gone on in their own car riage.” Marmaduke, without answering, took his seat, and the silence was Unbroken until they reached home. Emily immediately went to Lev own room, and Duke followed her. It was not unusual for him to spend a few minutes with his brother before going to bed; and, therefore, his presence ex cited no surprise. Emily stood before the mirror, loosening the flowers from her hair. The night was somewhat chilly’, and a fire was burn ing brightly. Ormand had not yet come in, and, with careless grace, Emily still stood there, indolently laying aside her ornaments. As she stood thus, her thoughts wandered back to the Past. She thought of the long imprisonment of Or mand ; of his triumphant emancipation ; and of her present happiness; and then she looked towards the Future. She painted the life of the little heir of Suth erland in glowing colors; and, with a brilliant color on her cheek, .she turned to ’Duke, and said : “Are we not happy, brother ?” “Happy!” echoed 'Duke, with a low moan; “yes, as happy as the outcast Angel, standing at the gates of-Para dise !” “What do you mean, Duke ?” exclaim ed Emily, dropping a pearl bracelet on the floor, and going to his side. “Nothing,” replied ’Duke, mournfully. “Oh ! but it is something ; tell me, my brother, what troubles you !’’ “You know that a wounded heart is hard to bear,” answered ’Duke, looking up into her eyes. '“A wounded heart! brother ? You are not well; let me call Ormand !” “Yes, call him; I need him now, Oh, Emily !” Marmaduke closed his eyes, and his head fell heavily forward. “Ormand! Ormand!”' shrieked Emily, opening the door. “Here 1 am !” answered Ormand, springing up the steps; “what is the matter ?” “ ’Duke 'is ill !” gasped Emily, return ing to the room. The Earl of Surrey looked as if he had breathed his last; his lace was as white as marble, and his lips painfully pressed to gether. Ormand clasped bis arms around him, but his little strength was not enough to move the insensible form of his brother, for, as we have already said, ’Duke was not a small man, and Ormand was “Gall the servarts !” he said to Emily. “They must have taken advantage of our absence, and left the house; I have rung the bell several times, and received no answer; they did not expect us so soon, and have not yet returned.” “Call Arthur, then; we must have help!” Emily ran downstairs; the merry laugh of Arthur in the drawing-room betrayed his whereabouts. She opened the door, and stood face to face with John Mac Donald. '‘John!’ she exclaimed, giving him % her hand ; “come, Arthur, ’Duke is very ill; perhaps, dying.” “Gome, John !” Arthur rushed from the room. John followed, with hasty steps Ormand was still supporting ’Duke in his arms, and so terrified was he that he scarcely could give John a word of wel come. “Lift him up, and put him on the bed,” said Emily. John stepped forward, and, lifting ’Duke in his arms as ii' ho were a child, laid him gently on Emily’s bed. Arthur left the house to seek a physician ; Emily went into the next room to change her dress, and John assisted Ormand in re moving the Ball costume of Marmaduke. “Your arrival was most opportune,” said Ormand; “I am too weak to move him an inch.” “This is your eldest brother, is it not ?” asked John, gazing, with admiring eyes, upon the noble form of the Earl of Surrey. “This is my eldest brother,” answered Ormand; “can you think what is the matter with him, John ?” “I cannot, indeed; he is in a deep swoon; has lie been ill ?” “No; he was perfectly well, this, even ing ; this is very sudden. Look, he is opening his eyes ! Brother, look at Die !” ’■ 'Duke languidly lifted his eyes to his brother’s face. “Are you in pain?” asked John, gently. “A pain in ray heart; it is gone, now,” answered ’Duke, turning his eyes towards John. “Heart disease!” murmured Ormand. i 4 Where is Emily? call her,” said ’Duke, wearily. “I am here,” answered Emily. “I will leave you, now,” said John; “unless I can be of service to you ?’’ “You will stay’- with us,” said Ormand ; “come, I will show you to a room.” * Two of the servants now showed their terrified faces at the door, and Ormand directed them to attend the Lord of Glencoe. Arthur soon returned, but 'Duke re fused to sec a Fhysiciau. He said lie was getting better, and wished no prying eyes around him. • |TO BE CONTINUED.| pastoral" letter, For the Promulgation of the Second Plenary Council of Baltimore. Augustin Yeuot, by the grace of God, and the favor of the Apostolic See, Bishop of Savannah and Administrator Apostolic of Florida. To the Clergy and Laity of Georgia and Florida , Health and Benediction: Beloved Brethren: The Plenary Council held two years ago in Baltimore, having now received the sanction and confirmation of the Holy See, through the successor of him to whom our Sa viour confided the Keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, promising to bind and loose in Heaven what he would bind and loose on earth, we deem it our duty to give an authentic notice of the fact to our flock, and at the same time to point out one or two articles, the necessary conse quences of the promulgation of the Council. A great portion of the regulations of the Council being intended for the Clergy, we wish our venerable brethren engaged in the Sacred Ministry, to ac cept in a more formal manner all the de cisions and regulations of the Chief Pas tors appointed by flic Holy Ghost to rule the Church of God, that so they may be observed with greater fidelity. For this purpose, wc convoke our yearly Synod lor the 11 tli day of January next, in our Cathedral of Savannah. We recom mend in a special manner to the prayers of the faithful, the success of the Synod, that all the wise and holy regulations of the Council being known and cherished by the leaders of the people of God, the wish of St. Paul be realised in every Priest of tfie Diocese, “that the man of God be perfect, furnished to every good work.” Tirn. 3, 17. The Council has deemed proper to give an additional mark of respect and IOVel OVe to Her whom the Son of God selected for His earthly Mother, and whom the Angel saluted “full of grace,” by decree, ing that the Feast of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary would be observed everywhere as a Holy Day 0 f Obligation, similar to the other eight festivals kept in the Diocese, and having ail the obligations and privileges of Sun days. This festival of the Immaculate Conception is kept by the Church on the Bth day of December, which this year will fall on a Tuesday, which day, (Tues day this year, and afterward on whatever day of the week it comes ) must be ob served as a festival of obligation, with annexed duty of hearing Mass and ab staining from servile work. The reason of this new regulation is that Mary bit maculate in her Conception, has been se lected by previous Councils as the Pa troness of the Country, and it was ineet. iu a spirit of love and gratitude, to honor the day of that benevolent and glorious Patroness, a.s much as possible, by giv ing it the privileges of Sunday, so that our people may have more ample Oppor tunity of returning thanks, and recom mending themse.ves to this glorious Mother of Mercy. We trust that this additional tribute f respect will render her protection over the Country yet more efficacious and plentiful, by dissipating more and more the black mist of bigotry and prejudice which, whilst on tiie one side, it deems it piety to disparage the Virgin Mother, on the other, grants to all children the privilege which the Church claims exclusively for her, by denying original sin and sending all children to Heaven, whether they be baptised or not. We would, also, remind you, that it is not in vain we claim protectors, advo cates, and patrons in Heaven; those pa trons really pray for us; wc must, there fore, supplicate our glorious Patroness to obtain new blessings for our Country. Alas! The late war has left us in a dis tressing state of poverty, suffering, and moral anxiety worse than anything else. May our Heavenly Patroness obtain a healing balm for these deep wounds, arising from the imprudence or the malice of men! May we sec the day when ail men will understand theoretically and practically the forbearance, kindness, charity, and help which they owe to their fellow-beings, specially to the and the poor! May contentment, peace, and prosperity, pervade all classes of society! May order reign everywhere, with in dustry, sobriety, morality, and the faith ful observance of all laws, human and divine! Another point earnestly recommended by the Council, we deem necessary .to place before your eves in reference to Marriage. In view yf the sacred ness of that holy alliance, it has always been the custom in the Church, and it is the cus tom now in every part almost of the Catholic world, to perform it in the morning, and to receive, immediate!) after, a solemn blessing during the Mass, which the Church has appointed specially for the married couple. The Benedic tion given at Mass ought, to be viewed as exceedingly precious, and the harbinger of invaluable advantages during the whole duration of married life. This solemn Mass is the bright testimony that the Catholic Church bears to the sancti ty and excellence of Christian Marriage, which the Apostle represents to be formed upon the model of the union which Jesus Christ has contracted with his Church. “This (Marriage,) is a great Sacrament: I speak in Chrid in the Church. Eph. 4, o'J.” And hence that Nuptial Mass cannot be celebrated, and that special benediction cannot be given in second and third nuptials, as they represent badly the union of Christ with his Church. That benediction is also refused during the penitential sea sons of Advent and of Lent, at wiiic i times the solemnization of Marriage is forbidden. What Misfortune that the habit should have crept into the country to celebrate marriage at night, at the very time when wordlings give way to then' gay, foolish, often criminal amusements, at a time when the heart is so ill-pro pered for piety and religious impressions, and under circumstances which assinr latc marriage to balls, dances, and the atrical representations! What pity tha young and fresh hearts select that kind of nuptial ceremony which tli • Church has appointed for widows and widower-, and for the penitential season of Advem and Lent. We think it will awaken ni 1 zeal and piety of the timorous daughters of the Church, to transcribe here toi them from the Missal, the Solemn Bent - diction, which the Driest, at the Altai, whilst the Holy Victim is in a immolation, pronounces over them. ' ter the Consecration, and immediate.} after the Baler , the Priest interrupts the offering of the Holy Sacrifice, an; turning around towards the mar'.H * couple, he says : “O God, Who by tie 1 power of Thy might didst create all thing-